Please, Forgive Me
by xxEmilyy
Summary: It's been three years and Violet finally decides to let Tate back in. Only she's not sure she can forgive him. But Tate will not give up until he can prove to her that he's worth forgiving.
1. Chapter 1

It's been three years since the death of the Harmon family. And it has been three long years of countless days and nights being sent away and crying in the basement for Tate Langdon. All he wanted was his light back. He wanted, no, needed his Violet. His heart shattered into a thousand pieces the very first time he heard those two, horrible words the night her mother died. He would sometimes talk to Ben about Violet, hoping she was around somewhere, listening to what he was saying.

Tate wanted nothing more than for Violet to see that he's changed. He fought and argued with the voices in his head for years, telling him to kill the new, now former residents of the Murder House. He couldn't go through with it because it would shove Violet farther away from him, and she was already too far.

Violet sat in her room reading and listening to the Ramones when she felt a very familiar presence in her room with her. She didn't bother to look around or acknowledge him. All she did was shake her head and let out a heavy sigh. She read another few pages before the presence decided to make himself known.

Tate materialized at the foot of Violet's bed, gripping the iron footboard, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Violet tried not to look up, but she failed when she looked over the top of her book and saw a very sad Tate. She felt her heart sink for him. She hated seeing the one person she deeply loved cry, but she couldn't allow herself to feel bad anymore, otherwise she'd lose her cool and all the progress she'd made in the last few years.

"Violet…" he whispered with a cracked voice.

She sighed, just staring at him impassively.

"Violet, please…say something."

"What would you like me to say?" She tried to sound strong, but Tate's tears produced the opposite effect and she was sure he noticed.

"Say you'll forgive me," he sniffed.

Violet laid her head back against the headboard and sighed. Three years of Tate constantly coming back to her, begging for her forgiveness, and she was considering it. No, she couldn't allow herself to feel bad for the guy who raped her mother, being the reason she died, and lying to her. His words came back to haunt her, _I would never let anybody or anything hurt you_. He made that promise to her while keeping secrets from her. He knew he was dead, he knew that what he'd done would hurt her, but continued to hide everything from her. When she found out that Tate had killed Chad and Patrick, she didn't care so much considering they tried to steal her mother's babies, so she took no liking to them.

Violet couldn't decide what she wanted to do. There was only one thing she could think of to say.

"Go-"

"No!" Tate snapped making Violet jump. "It's been three damn years, Violet. Three years of you telling me to go away. Three years of you trying to avoid how you feel about me. Three damn years that we should have spent talking." His eyes blazed. He was hoping that he could scare Violet a little bit. He thought he caught a bit of fear or uneasiness in her eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Violet any more than she already was. He knows how much damage he'd done.

"Tate-" he cut her off again.

"And it's been three years that I haven't killed someone. I haven't killed any of the ghosts in this house, Violet. I want to show you that you've changed me. I don't want to be in the darkness anymore." He wiped his nose and sniffled again. His tears just couldn't stop coming down his face.

Violet got up from the bed and began pacing her room, trying to think of a way she could test Tate, but she came up blank. She continued for a few moments before she stopped and looked at Tate. His heart began to race when her eyes met his. He was hoping she was trying to think of a way for him to redeem himself. Maybe that way she would let him back in her warm bed, surrounded by her warmth, her light, and her love. But even he knew that that was too much to hope for.

"Tate…I can't forgive you." His heart sank down to his stomach. "Not after what you've done to my family. To all the other people in this house."

He looked at her stupefied. "I only killed Chad and Patrick."

"What about those people who broke in?" She crossed her arms across her chest.

"That wasn't me, I swear. The nurses had done it."

"But you helped."

He stayed silent, scuffing his shoes against the rug on the floor.

"Tate, I-"

"No, please!" he sobbed. "Please, don't send me away again. I'm begging you. You've sent me away so many times; I don't think I could handle it again." He sank to his knees and dropped his face into his hands, crying harder.

She sighed in exasperation. "Fine," she said. "You can stay." He looked up at her in surprise and happiness. "But keep your distance." He nodded and she walked back to her bed and began reading again.

Tate moved and sat down in a chair beside Violet's bed. He may not be able to hold her, but she let him stay. Nothing could have made Tate happier than Violet letting him back into her room and back into her space. He just sat there and watched her read her novel, enjoying the fine sight on the bed that was Violet Harmon.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that evening, Violet had given up her reading. Tate had left her in peace a while ago, which she appreciated. She threw her book somewhere is frustration and dropped her head into her hands. _What am I going to do? _she asked herself. She could feel tears building up in her eyes. She had been so strong for the last few years and now all of a sudden, all that progress just evaporated. What happened? One encounter after many in such a long time and she felt like she was about to crack.

Violet dried her eyes and headed to her bedroom door. She opened it and walked down the hall towards the attic. She pulled the string causing the ladder the descend. She climbed up and looked around the dark, dusty room.

"Beau?" she called for Tate's brother. She liked to come up and play with Beau when things got tough because Beau's playfulness and optimism radiated off of him.

The red, rubber ball came rolling towards Violet out of the shadows and soon came the rattling of chains. Beau came out of the darkness and lit up when he saw Violet. She sat down a few feet away from him and rolled the ball back to him. He clapped and she giggled.

"Vi…o…let!" He clapped in excitement.

Violet giggled. "That's right, Beau. I'm Violet."

Violet and Beau continued playing for a while until the attic stairs started to creak.

"Brother!" Beau shouted, once again in excitement.

Tate half-smiled. "Hey, Beau." He hugged his brother and turned around to see Violet. "Hey…"

"Hi," she said politely. "Do you want to play?" She held up the red ball?

Tate nodded and sat down in a space beside Beau and Violet.

"What are you doing here?" Violet asked Tate after a few minutes of silent ball-rolling.

"I could hear Beau's chain rattling down the hall and thought he lost his ball again." He looked down as Beau tossed his brother the ball.

"Is that the truth or are you up here because I am?" she asked impassively. Tate looked up and their eyes met. The look in her eyes let him know that she already knew that he was lying. He took a deep breath. He wasn't sure why he lied to her once again.

"Because you're here," he muttered.

"I see." She rolled the ball to Beau before looking back at Tate. "How do you expect me to forgive you or trust you again if you just continue to lie to me?"

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lie to you." _Damn it! I could lose my chance at redemption! Damn it, Tate! _he thought to himself. He just wanted to shoot himself for even deceiving Violet. He didn't want to lose the progress he'd already started making with her. She finally spoke to him and tolerated him being around her. He couldn't let that slip away. A tear slipped down his cheek.

Violet noticed and rolled her eyes. "Why are you crying, Tate?" Something inside her sparked something when she spoke his name. She always thought of it, but never said it until now. Maybe it's because she's restricted the want or need to say it.

"I just don't want to screw this up, Vi," he sniffed.

Violet sighed and looked at Beau. "I'm tired, Beau. I'll come see you later."

Beau clapped and disappeared into the dusty shadows.

Violet got to her feet, brushed off her dress and moved towards Tate, whose head still hung low. She knelt down beside him and rested a small hand on his muscular shoulder. His sniffling stopped and he turned to look at her. The look in his eyes told her why he was upset.

"Tate, this needs to stop."

"What?"

"The crying. So you told a little lie; that's not going to do anything to ruin your chance."

Tate's eyes widened. "Really?"

She nodded.

Tate wanted so badly to wrap his arms around his beautiful love and thank her. But he knew how awkward it would be for her if he did. As much as he wanted this and as quickly as he wanted her, he wasn't going to rush her. He wanted her any way he could have her.

"I'll see you later," she said and walked back down the attic steps and back to her room.

The next morning, Violet woke to a sound outside her bedroom window. It sounded like a truck backing up. She got up and moved to look outside and sure enough, there was a moving truck in the driveway.

"Shit," she said under her breath. She quickly got dressed and materialized by the front door, but made sure to keep herself invisible.

When the front door opened, a Caucasian man with a mustache, a woman with black hair and dressed like a business woman walk in and look around the foyer of their new home. Soon a boy, about eighteen walked in. He was a little taller than Tate, black hair like his mom and…he even dressed like Tate! Violet was taken aback by the appearance of the guy. She knew there was uniqueness to Tate, but this guy's was almost identical.

"Ricky, why don't you go look around while your father and I make room for the furniture," the woman spoke. Her voice was soft and genuine. The way she looked you would expect her to be rude and obnoxious.

"Cool," the boy said and walked up the front stairs, while Violet followed closely behind.

As she was walking down the hall behind Ricky, she felt a cold and familiar presence approach her from behind. She stopped in her tracks and turned to see Tate glaring over her head. His dark eyes were blazing with jealousy. His blonde, shaggy curls hung in his face, adding the creepiness to his stare.

"Do you like him, Violet?" His voice was cold.

"What? No. Why would you think that?"

"Why are you following him? Hoping he gets our old bedroom?" His glare turns to her. She could feel his jealousy radiating off of him and she sighed.

"You cannot be jealous, Tate," she said in a calm tone.

"Why?"

"For one, we're not together. And two, I'm not interested in him like that. He just moved in, I don't even know him." She shrugged.

"You want to," he snaps in an accusatory tone.

"Excuse me?"

Tate gulps. _Shit! What am I doing?_

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Violet. I know I have no right to feel this way. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

She nods accepting his apology.

"So how long do you think until the other ghosts run them out?" Violet asks as they walk down the hall and find the new guy in their old room.

Tate crosses his arms across his chest and stares at the guy. "Compared to the last family…I'd give it seventy-two hours."

Violet nodded.

Ricky looked around the room in curiosity. He walked over to Violet's dresser and found her bowl of doll parts, her books, her music and her clothes.

"What kind of freaky chick keeps doll parts?" he asks himself out loud.

Tate could feel anger building up inside him by the sound of that guy calling his Violet 'freaky'. He already dealt with that once with that Gabe kid whose family moved in after the Harmon's died. And as far as anyone's concerned, if anyone's going to drive this family out of this house, it was going to be him.


	3. Chapter 3

A few days later after the Walker family had moved in and gotten settled, Violet decided to learn about the new boy, Ricky. One day Ricky's parents, Abigail and Richard, had gone out for the day. At one point, Ricky had gone out to grab the mail. He went through all the envelopes and none were for him. He was waiting for his best friends, Leila and Chris to write him, or text him, or something.

He had trudged back up to his bedroom to walk in and find a small, slim, sandy blonde looking through his things. He looked around to see how she got in without him catching her. He gave her a once over and found her sense of style to be strange, but he didn't think too much of it.

"Um, hi?" he said as he walked in.

Violet stood up straight and turned to see Ricky. "Hey," she said with a smile.

"Not to be rude or anything-actually no, rudeness intended; how did you get in?"

She smirked at him. "You left the front door open when you went to get your mail."

"So that's automatically an invitation to sneak in to someone's house? I could be a serial killer and you just got caught." He crosses his arms across his chest and stares at her. Violet gave him a once over and saw the same grunge, nineties style she saw in herself as well as Tate. And the second she thought of him, she could feel his presence in the room. She could feel his jealousy and it made her a little edgy.

"True. And I've had my fair share of serial killers for one lifetime. So to speak."

Ricky looked at the mystery girl with confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I dated, lost my virginity, and am now dealing with trying to forgive an ex-boyfriend."

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asked a little irritated.

"He was a serial killer."

Ricky gulped. "Do you still see him?" He quickly shakes his head. "No, don't answer that. Back to you being here. Why are you here?"

"I used to live here. I came by to come and relive some old memories, but I didn't know anyone had moved in." She half-smiled, trying to look innocent.

He sighs, still irritated. "Well you came, you saw, goodbye." He pointed to the door.

Tate was standing near the bedroom door and was trying so hard not to beat the hell out of this guy for being so rude to Violet. She wasn't doing anything wrong. This was her room, _our room_, he thought to himself. If anything he was the trespasser.

Violet started walking towards the door when a voice called her back.

"Wait," Ricky said.

Violet turned around to see the boy with an apologetic look on his face. He motioned her back and to come and sit on the bed with him. She did.

"A minute ago, you said you've had a fair share of serial killers for one lifetime. What did you mean by that?"

Violet could sense his curiosity. She started twiddling her thumbs. She wasn't afraid of telling him that she was a ghost, but afraid of possibly ending a friendship before it starts with a guy who may finally accept her. All of the others resident's teenage kids tried exorcising her, and that didn't end well considering how Tate reacted. If Violet didn't interfere, he would have set every single person on fire, leaving them trapped in the house. Thankfully, that was over three years ago, so she had nothing against him.

"Well…I'm…dead," she muttered looking down. When Ricky didn't talk or make a sound, Violet looked up to see an impassive look on his face.

"You're a ghost?" he asked in a way like he didn't seem all that surprised.

She nodded.

He smirked. "Cool."

"Cool?" Violet was confused.

"Well, yeah. I hear and read about all these ghost stories and shit, but you can tell it's just crap people are making up. But now I've met a real one."

Violet smiled.

"But…how can I prove you really are a ghost?" He pokes her arm and then her knee. Tate watched closely, fists clenching at his sides.

_Do it. _

_He's after your girl._

_Take him out and show her how much you want her._

"NO!" Tate yelled at the voices in his head. But luckily he was still invisible and no one had heard him. Before he knew it, he was in the basement, punching walls and breaking stuff.

That night, Violet had gone down to the gazebo to have a cigarette. She felt good about proving to Ricky that she really was a ghost. She stood beside the bed and disappeared, only to materialize at the door. He thought it was the coolest thing ever, which made Violet feel good. As she smoked her cigarette, she smiled to herself.

"He touched you. I didn't like it." A familiar voice came from the back door. Violet turned around to see Tate walking towards her.

She sighed irritably and turned back around. "Do you enjoy watching me every second?"

"Yes." He's beside her now.

"Well don't," she warned, looking straight ahead. She knew that making eye contact with Tate would weaken her.

"Why not?"

"It's creepy." She took a drag off her burning smoke.

"I thought you liked creepy. I remember greatly that you don't like normal things."

She scoffed but didn't say anything.

"What?"

"This is ridiculous," she muttered before killing the stick. "You need to stop this, Tate."

"Why, Violet? I'm sorry wanting to be around you all the time makes you uncomfortable, but I'm not sorry for doing it." He moved around trying to get her to make eye contact.

"Stop." She closed her eyes.

"Please, don't close your beautiful eyes," Tate pleaded. He touched his hand to hers and that spark had ignited something inside her. _Oh shit, skin on skin_, she thought to herself. It's too late; she opened her eyes and looked into his dark eyes.

"I can't…" she whispers as tears begin to flow down her cheeks.

"I just want you, Violet. I need you." Tears pour down his cheeks as well.

Violet felt that intense pull between them and she found herself leaning in towards Tate, him mirroring her actions. Their lips were only centimeters apart when Violet suddenly pulled back.

"I-I can't do this," she said before getting to her feet and running into the darkness in the back yard.

"Violet!" Tate called, tears still flowing. His heart had sunk lower.


	4. Chapter 4

Throughout the next week, Violet spent most of her time pacing and reading in her old bedroom. She found in comforting to see that Ricky didn't dispose of her bed, but just changed the bedding. The softness of the mattress was enough to relax her the second she sat down.

She wasn't sure how to deal with her close encounter with Tate last week. All she could do was scold herself for nearly diminishing all of the progress she had made over the last three years.

Ricky walked in and saw Violet spread out on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked up to see what she was looking at, but nothing.

"Hey," he said.

She didn't move. "Hi."

"Everything okay?" He moved around and motioned her to move over so he could lie down with her.

"I don't know, Ricky. Everything seems so…messed up."

He looked at her quizzically. "How is that?"

"When I broke up with Tate-" she saw his confused look. "-my serial killer, ex-boyfriend, I spent every day for the last three years sending him away and avoiding him as much as possible…"

Violet spent the rest of the day talking to Ricky about her and Tate and why she felt she couldn't be with him. Friendship seemed to be the only thing she was willing and strong enough to give him.

Tate was standing in the corner; hanging on to Violet's every word. He wanted to prove to Violet that she had no reason to stay away anymore. He wanted her to know that he could be himself, but minus the psycho killer. Tate had realized that ever since he lost Violet, there was no one else for him and he was willing to do just about anything to get his beloved back.

Tate felt that the only way to get Violet back was to get rid of Ricky. And he didn't need murder to take him out.

"Kit!" Ricky's mother screamed from downstairs.

Ricky stopped midsentence and turned his attention to the commotion with his mom.

"Who's Kit?" Violet asked him.

He sighs in irritation. "My older brother."

"You don't seem that excited for him to be here."

"No shit, eh?" he snapped at her. "I'm sorry. Kit and I have never gotten along. This goes beyond sibling rivalry. Kit has always been better than me at everything; getting girls, sports, getting along with people…" he trailed off and ran a hand through his hair.

Violet stayed silent.

"He's a real asshole. And that's putting it nicely." He shrugged.

Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and there stood Kit. Violet sat there in so much shock, her body went totally still. _No way! _she thought to herself. He looked so much like Tate! The only difference was his hair: short and dark brown. Tate has a twin? Violet couldn't work out the appearance of Ricky's older birth. Her first question was, _Separated at birth?_

"Hey, Ricky," he said with a smirk. He walked into the room and stopped when he saw Violet.

"Well hello there," he said seductively.

Violet rolled her eyes. She knew she wasn't going to fall for his charm. His lack of effect on her had nothing to do with what Ricky had told her, but because her heart and feelings belonged to the blonde psychopath in the basement.

"I'm Kit Walker." He holds his hands out to Violet for a shake.

She shakes his hand.

"Friend of yours?" he asks his brother.

"Yeah," Ricky says glaring at Kit.

Violet could sense the tension between the two brothers and immediately got to her feet. She said goodbye to Ricky, ignored Kit's '_nice to meet you_' on her way out of the room. She walked down the stairs and bumped into a hard body she knew well. She looked up and saw Tate. But he looked different today. His eyes were red-rimmed, but he was…smiling. Why was he smiling?

"Hey, Vi," he said.

Violet has not even seen the ghost of a smile of Tate's lips since the night she sent him away, when she told him she believed that she changed him. She felt a little uneasy, not exactly sure how to process this. Violet couldn't help looking at Tate's smile. As uneasy as she felt, she felt better to see him smile without needing her. Could he be doing better without her? She didn't want to think of him no longer needing or wanting her, but the whole time since she let him back in, she knew friendship was the better alternative.

"Um, hi," she muttered.

"Where are you off to?" his voice reeks of optimism. Should she know better?

"Um…just around the house." She points up the stairs with her thumb. "Have you seen Ricky's brother?" she asks.

That hit a nerve in Tate, but he wasn't going to let her know. The Walkers would be out soon enough, so he didn't need to let her know anything. He knew his anger would hint something to her.

"N-No," he stuttered, fighting with his jealousy. "Why?"

"He looks so much like you," she says.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" He could feel his control slipping a little. _Enough with these Walker people_, Tate thought to himself.

_Kill them. Kill them all._

_Do it, Tate. Who cares what she says?_

"I do!" Tate yelled out loud.

Violet steps back.

"What the hell, Tate?" She frowns.

"I-I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind and I guess my thoughts came out as more then…well, that." He half-smiles at her before walking away.

That night, Tate was ready to put his plan into action.

Ricky was in the kitchen getting a snack. Everyone had gone to bed and he couldn't sleep, so he went downstairs to give him something to do. He was going through the cupboards when he eyes a can of hot chocolate. He grabbed it and the kettle, filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning the gas on to ignite the burner.

He went walking around the house, looking at the different paintings his mother had hung up throughout the dining room and the living room. His mom had a thing for freaky, exotic paintings.

The kettle began to scream and Ricky went into the kitchen, turned of the gas and moved the kettle to the back burner. He opened the can of chocolate powder and poured in a few spoonfuls. When he put the lid back on the can, he was about to grab the kettle when he heard a clinking sound behind him. When he turned, there stood Tate, tapping the top of the island with the tip of a large kitchen knife.

"Kit? I thought you were in bed. What the hell did you do to your hair?" Ricky almost laughed.

Tate just continued to tap the counter with the knife in silence, keeping his eyes down. Ricky just shook his head and went back to pouring the boiling water into his cup.

"I need you to do me a favor," Tate said; the tapping of the knife had ceased.

Ricky turned to face him. "Really? Forget it, Kit; I'm not doing shit for you."

"I'm not, Kit," Tate growled; dark eyes finally meeting Ricky's.

"Oh, really?" Ricky scoffed. "Then who are you?"

"Most people call me Norman Bates. Some call me a psychopath. But you can call me, Tate." He gives him a dark smirk.

"Tate? What kind of-" and in an instant, he knows. This is the psycho killer, ex-boyfriend Violet had talked to him about. That would explain the knife in his hand.

Tate's smirk remained because he knew what Ricky was thinking and he could feel the fear radiating off of him.

"Now about that favor," he said.

Ricky shook his head. "No," he said.

"You haven't even heard me out."

"I don't care. No."

Within a second, Tate had disappeared and reappeared in front of Ricky, knife to his throat. Ricky was almost as tall as Tate. Ricky began to shake, not because he was scared of Tate himself, but because he knew psychopaths weren't the people to mess with and they didn't care what they did to anyone or anything.

"You're going to leave Violet alone," he growled. "If you don't I will kill you. Do you understand me?"

Ricky didn't answer.

"Do you understand me?" Tate pushed the knife into the other boys' throat. Tate knew he wasn't going to kill him, but he just needed him to think that was his intention. He just wanted him scared and out of the house…for good.

"Tate…" a voice came from behind me.

Tate hesitated and slowly turned his head to see Hayden standing in the doorway that connected the dining room and kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

"Now's not a good time, Hayden," he growled through gritted teeth before turning to glare back the boy.

"Do you really think that doing this is going to win you any points with that Nightingale brat?" She stepped farther into the kitchen until she was standing beside the two boys. "You'd be sending away her only friend away. That would guarantee her not to forgive you."

"Why do you suddenly care about Violet?" Tate snapped without looking away.

"Because I've grown to care about what goes on between you two." Tate could hear the sarcasm in Hayden's voice.

"What's the real reason?"

Hayden rolled her eyes. "'Cause I am so sick and tired of hearing her crying herself to sleep every night about being the one who messed up. And I'm just as sick of you constantly begging her to forgive you. If you want it so badly, do something about!" Tate was taken aback by Hayden's sudden, angry audacity.

He now focused his attention on Ricky.

"Do you have any romantic feelings towards Violet?" he asks. His jealousy is a dead giveaway, but Ricky ignores it.

"N-No." Tate pushes the knife a little deeper into his neck. "O-Okay, yes, I do. But the feelings aren't mutual from her side."

And with that, sudden relief washed over Tate and he was able to easily pull back from Ricky. He knew Ricky had begun to develop feelings for Violet over time, but he was scared that he was losing her to a living person. Nothing scared him more than the idea of losing his precious, fragile Violet.

By now, Hayden had disappeared. She was no more than a subconscious being who convinced Tate that if he wanted Violet back in his arms and all, he should stop plotting against the living and work to prove his changes and innocence.

The Walker family, except for Kit had gone out for the morning. He stayed back to take advantage of being alone and decided to go exploring. He went downstairs, browsed through the living room, dining room, kitchen, Ben's old office and…the basement. He walked from room to room of the 'dark, dank place' as Violet put it. He found nothing interesting, so he turned to walk back upstairs. He made it up two steps before he heard a clinking noise. He went back down the steps and squinted a little bit into the darkness of the basement, but the noise didn't continue. When he turned to go back upstairs, the noise went on.

"Okay, who's screwing around down here?" he called out irritably.

There was silence.

"I know you're down here. You make enough noise for me to know there's someone here. Now come out!" he demanded in a stern voice.

The silence remained.

Kit finally got sick of waiting and walked through the darkness towards the noise. It may have been daytime, but there weren't enough windows to the basement to allow much light in. The noise didn't continue, but he just walked to where it might have come from. He found that the noise came from a squeaky window with cracks in the glass. He scoffed and turned back towards the stairs before something had tripped him and dragged him back along the concrete floor. He flailed and tried to pull his foot out of the hold. Claws had scratched through his pant leg and Kit howled out in pain. He tried to see what had a hold of him, but it was too dark to see.

"Go away, Thaddeus!" shouted a voice from behind Kit. His leg was free and he quickly jumped to his, but his leg began to throb from the cut.

One of the basement lights had turned on and there stood Violet. Kit squinted until his eyes adjusted to the bright light. He didn't know this girl very well, but he was glad to see her.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Violet snapped at him.

"What's it to you?" he asked defensively. Why should he have to justify himself to this little girl?

"I used to live here. I know a lot about this house and it's not safe to come down here alone."

"Ooh, why? Is the boogeyman going to get me?" His tone is mocking. Violet folds her arms across her chest.

"You could say that."

"Right," he scoffed. And within seconds he winced when he remembered the pain in his leg. He looked down and saw blood-soaked denim. "Shit," he whispered. Violet walked over and pulled the material up to reveal two giant claw marks that ran from halfway up his shin and down towards his ankle.

"That looks bad," she said.

"What are you, some kind of doctor?" Kit snapped.

Violet stood up straight. "You know, I want to be nice and help you, but I can clearly see you don't." She turned to walk away.

After a moment, "wait!" came from Kit's mouth. Violet turned back around to face him.

"I'm sorry," he says with a half-smile.

"Apology accepted. Now let's get you out of here and looked at." She took his hand and led him upstairs.

Violet had called Charles upstairs to look at Kit's leg. As it turns out, all he needed was disinfectant—which stung like hell based on his grunts, groans and howls of pain. When he finished, Violet thanked the doctor and he was off; back to the basement.

Violet sat on one of the kitchen barstools and watched Kit carefully. _There is no way someone could look so much like someone else and not have any relation_, Violet thought to herself. She could not understand how Kit resembled Tate in every way except the hair. It confused her.

"Do you have any other brothers besides Ricky?" she asked.

Kit snorts. "Why? Do you plan on pimping all of us Walker men?"

"No; just the ones that deserve a good beating. I might know someone for the job." She smirks wickedly, making Kit feel a little uneasy.

"Um, no thanks." He looks down at his leg. It's all bandaged up. He sat up on the kitchen island while Charles tended to his injury. "So…what was that thing that attacked me?"

"I thought it was the boogeyman."

Kit chuckled. "Um, no. The boogeyman is for kids and I'm no kid."

"You sure screamed like one over a little disinfectant." Violet smirked again.

For some reason, Kit was beginning to find some comfort in the girl and it felt so alien to him. He's never found anything in anyone before.

"Have you ever gotten marked up this bad, have it get infected within minutes and have some random doctor pour alcohol into it? That shit burns." He shudders at the thought of reliving that.

"Mm, no. But do these qualify?" She lifted up her sleeves and revealed twelve to thirteen scars on each wrist. Kit's eyes grew wide as he looked at the marks. He immediately thought that this girl was suicidal.

"What the hell?" he says. "Are you mental or something?"

"Or something," she says. "No. Before I-" she was about to say _before I died_, but quickly caught herself. "Um…before I moved here, my dad had this affair with some student from his class. He moved me, my mom and him all out here for a new start."

"And…?"

"And nothing. Nothing changed. She followed him out here, my mom left and I don't know what happened." Violet felt very confident and proud of herself for her cover story. She made it up on the spot and was amazed at how it all came out. But she still felt guilty for some reason for the damnation of her parents. Thinking about how different life could have been for them makes her feel even worse.

"Huh. Sounds like a joke to me."

"The move?"

"Your dad," he said deadpan.

This ticked Violet off. "Look, my dad may have done something stupid, but I still love him." Violet snapped. "Just because you're not happy with your family doesn't mean I have to be."

That struck a nerve in Kit. He immediately became depressed and looked down at the floor. Violet began to feel bad.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No, you're right. I am unhappy with my family. My parents are addicted to art, spending so much time with it that they have no time for Ricky and me. And Ricky is…different. He used to be a lot more fun when he was a kid."

Violet smiled.

"What?" Kit asked confused.

"Nothing. Ricky is still a kid and you're always going to be a dick of an older brother." She smirked.

Kit chuckled. "You sound like an adult."

"Let's just say I've been around a lot longer than you think." And with that, she gets to her and walks out the front door, only to materialize upstairs in her old bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

When Violet got to her room, she was surprised to find Tate laying down on her—or what was—her bed. She closed the door behind her and walked over until she was close enough to rest her hands on the iron footboard.

Tate had his hands folded behind his head and just stared at Violet like he may never get the chance to again. Violet couldn't help but look back into those dark brown eyes of his. She knew she would always love Tate, but forgiveness was nowhere near an option.

"Hi," he finally spoke.

"Hi."

"Having a good day?"

Violet rolled her eyes. "It's never a good day here, Tate. Only one day a year."

He sighed.

"What are you doing here?" She moved around to sit on the bed next to him. He rolled over onto his side and rested his head on his hand that was supported by his elbow.

"I like to come in here from time to time and just look back on all the memories you and I have," he says sincerely.

Violet looked down at her hands. She swore she was going to cry, but she tried not to in front of Tate.

"I need to tell you something, Violet," Tate said with uncertainty.

She looked at him.

"The other night…I followed that kid—"

"Ricky," she said cutting him off.

"Yeah. Anyways, I followed him downstairs. And when I got my chance…I um…I held a knife to his throat." He looked down in shame.

Violet jumped to her feet. "You what?" she yelled.

Tate just stared down at the mattress in silence.

"Why would you do that?" She ran her hands through her hair. "Answer me," she said when he didn't answer her for a few minutes.

Tears began to flow from his eyes.

"I…I just wanted him to leave you alone," Tate sobbed.

Her eyes widened. "Why?"

He was quiet, but the tears kept coming.

"Tate!"

"I thought that if he didn't leave you alone, I would lose my chance of getting you back." He got to his feet and stood in front of her. "I mean it, Violet; I'm not letting you go. I screwed up once and I am willing to do whatever it takes to prove to you that I've changed."

She exhales deeply. "Putting a knife to Ricky's throat isn't really scoring you any points."

Tate looks down in shame once again.

"But your honesty does," she added. Tate looked up and their eyes met. Neither of them could deny the pull they felt between them. Tate felt himself leaning in closer to Violet, and she could feel the same towards him. She wasn't sure if she would be strong enough to hold back this time because seeing the tears in Tate's eyes was enough to put a crack in her armor. His honesty was enough to put a split in it.

The two lovers leaned in close enough until their faces were inches apart. Tate leaned in a little more eagerly until their lips were nearly touching.

"Tate?" she whispered. He could feel her warm breath on his lips. "Tate, I can't." And even though she said this, she couldn't pull back.

"Please, Violet…not again." He cupped her face and pulled her in so their lips collided. Their soft lips crashing against one another. As wrong as Violet felt this was, she was sure that she couldn't fight it anymore. Tate still loved her and she loved him, but this connection between them was enough to convince her that she couldn't fight her feelings towards him anymore. She may not be able to forgive him, but she could love him.

Tate pulled away. "Can you feel it, Vi?" he asked, panting.

She nodded.

He smiled. "Well?"

"I, um…Tate…"

Tate could feel the tears coming again. He knew she was about to leave him again and he wasn't going to stop her. He would keep fighting until she fell back into his arms. And that's exactly what she did in that moment.

Violet fell into his chest and wrapped her arms securely around Tate's waist and held onto him for dear life. Three years had been long enough for her to hold out. Three years she spent missing out on what they could have had. Tate wrapped his arms around Violet in a tight embrace.

"Violet," he whispered and kissed her head.

"I love you, Tate." Tears pricked her eyes.

Tate pulled away and held her at arms length to look into her eyes.

"I never stopped loving you, Vi." She smiled. "I will never stop loving you."

Violet sat invisible on Ricky's desk and watched him look over some car magazine while listening to what sounded like Metallica. She eventually materialized and Ricky smiled when he saw her. She returned the smile. Violet couldn't help but smile now. She had her love back; she had a friend she could be with when she and Tate weren't together, like if they were really alive.

"Hey," Ricky said with a smile. "Where have you been?"

"Oh you know, here and there."

"Here and there as in the basement and my room?" He smirked.

"Haha, you're so funny." She walked over and sat down on the bed the same way she had when she spoke to Tate the day before.

"So I hear you had an interesting encounter with Kit." Ricky sat up and looked displeased.

"Yeah," Violet said as she rolled her eyes. "It wasn't long, but he was good company until I figured out you weren't around." She lied.

"You're stuck here and you couldn't tell if I was here?"

She shrugged.

"Tate told me what he did to you."

Ricky gulped. "Did he now?" He tried not to look nervous.

She nodded.

"And what did you say?"

"I was angry, of course," she said looking around the room. She could sense his presence. She only had to mention his name once for any reason and he would be there. "But he's been trying to overcome his demons for years."

Ricky could see the sympathy in her expression and he couldn't help but feel a little jealous and shocked.

"You didn't forgive him, did you?"

"No." She looked down at her hands. "I still haven't built up enough strength and he still hasn't given me a good enough reason."

"Phew," he wiped his forehead as a joke.

She slapped his shoulder. "Hey," she chuckled. "But," she added. "I did take him back."

Ricky jumped to his feet. "What?"

"Jeez, you're almost repeating what happened the other night."

"You took that psycho ex-boyfriend of yours back because he told you what he did? Do you get off on hearing other people being tortured?"

Violet got to her feet on the opposite side of the bed. She immediately felt insulted.

"Excuse me? If that were true, Tate and I would have screwed each other's brains out when he killed the people who broke into this house when I was alive and when I saw those kids he killed when _he _was alive."

"Either way, Violet, what is wrong with you?"

Violet wasn't sure how to answer that. What was wrong with her? She soon felt the vibe in the air change. She could feel Tate's mood change from calm to angry.

She let out a deep breath. _Calm down, Tate_, she thought to herself. And within seconds, the mood in the room had changed. She was glad that Tate had picked up on what she was thinking. She didn't think he could, but she was thankful for it.

"Why are you acting like such an ass?" she asked.

His brows furrowed. "I'm an ass? I'm an ass because I asked you a simple question about that psychotic shit that killed you?"

"You're an ass because you're talking about my boyfriend, Ricky."

"Boyfriend," he scoffed. "He probably doesn't even love you. He probably just wants into your pants to prove that he can get there, no problem."

Tears sprang to Violet's eyes. This angered Tate, who materialized and lunged at Ricky and held up against the wall, his fingers around his throat.

"Tate!" Violet yelled.

"You don't know anything about us," he growled. "And you definitely don't know anything about me. I love Violet Harmon with every inch of my being. I would do anything for her." His dark eyes bore into Ricky's.

Ricky grabbed at Tate's hand and tried to pry him off, but Tate's grip was like steel.

"Tate, please," Violet whispered in shock. "You promised." And with that, Tate immediately let go of Ricky's neck and backed away to take Violet in his arms.

Ricky bowed down to the floor and coughed as he felt the air reenter his lungs.

"Jesus," he coughed.

Tate glared at Ricky while he rubbed Violet's back. And within seconds, the couple disappeared, leaving Ricky on his own.


	7. Chapter 7

Tate and Violet watched up in the attic window as the Walker family packed up their moving truck. Violet caught Ricky looking up at her. He shook his head and climbed into his parents' car before it pulled out and drove down the street.

"Are you going to miss him?" Tate asked.

Violet nodded and Tate wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side.

"He won't be the last friend you make, love," he whispered.

She blushed. "Right now all I want and can hope for is right beside me."

Tate smiled and leaned down and kissed Violet with all the passion he could muster.

"It's you and me, together for always," he whispered against her lips.

"Forever."


End file.
